


How Hartley Found Missy (Or How Missy Picked Her Pet)

by kitkatt0430



Series: Missy Verse [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Hartley and Lisa are BFFs, Hartley looks for a dog, making your own family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatt0430/pseuds/kitkatt0430
Summary: For Hartley's birthday he wants to do something special.  Not just hanging out with Lisa (not that hanging out with his best friend would be a terrible way to spend the day) or watching netflix or treating it just like any other day.  No, Hartley wants to get a dog.





	How Hartley Found Missy (Or How Missy Picked Her Pet)

All Hartley had really wanted for his birthday was dinner with his parents. But, despite no longer being disowned, it had been made pretty clear that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. They’d reconciled and now Rachel and Osgood took his calls and assured him that of course they loved him… the just didn’t have time for him. They were busy with work, surely Hartley understood.

So it took a few days for Hartley to come up with something else he wanted for his birthday. Nothing really appealed him. Not video games, or books, not… well, hanging out with Lisa was usually fun, but it wasn’t ‘special’ since they were hanging out so much already. In the last few years, particularly the last two, Hartley hadn’t done anything to really mark the occasion, not even realizing he was a year older until well past the actual date.

But this year his life was really turning around. He had a good job at Mercury Labs, a bizarre best friend, occasionally helped out Central City’s Superhero Squad, and had his parents sort of back in his life. It seemed like he ought to do something special for his birthday instead of just the same old Netflix binge or wandering around doing whatever weird, non-illegal (or borderline-illegal) thing that Lisa thought sounded fun this week.

(“Okay, seriously Lisa, I don’t have a record and I don’t want one. I’d prefer my brief stay in Team Flash’s pipeline to be the only jail time I’ve ever done.”

“It’s not technically illegal, Hart.”

“But I’ll bet the cops would disagree.”

“Eh, give me a good lawyer, or at least one who does as told, and I’d have us out with all charges dropped in a few hours.”

“A few hours of my life I’d never get back.”)

It wasn’t until Hartley noticed one of his first floor neighbors had a new dog that it even occurred to him to consider getting himself a pet. He’d had a dog as a kid and he’d loved Arty dearly. Arty, however, had been a big lab, purebred with papers. Only the best of the best for the Rathaways, not that his parents had really cared much about Arty one way or the other. He was Hartley's responsibility and if he needed help, well… they paid people for exactly that. Arty passed away when Hartley was seventeen and he’d been devastated. Unfortunately, his bewildered parents had been no comfort.

(“He’s just a dog, Hartley. Honestly. Sometimes, I just don’t understand you at all.”)

Sometimes Hartley wondered if his parents had him because they needed an heir only to realize afterwards (if at all) that they didn’t actually know what to do with him once he was there.

For a lot of reasons, Hartley didn’t want a dog like Arty. Not just because he didn’t want to be constantly comparing his new dog to the one he’d lost, but because… well… Hartley knew what it was like to be unwanted and homeless. He wanted a stray. Small, because small dogs were more manageable in his apartment and less likely to need a big yard to run around in when he could chase a small dog around the living room for fun instead. A dog who’d snuggle next to him on cold nights and climb on his lap to demand attention; an actual lapdog, not one who only thought that was what he was.

(“Arty – oof – you are way too big to be squashing me like this. … You’re not moving are you? At least I can still reach my homework from here.”)

The more Hartley thought about it, the more he realized that he longed for the company a dog would bring him. He wasn’t the most social of people, always slanted more towards introversion than extroversion, so being alone didn’t usually make him lonely and when he missed social contact with people who weren’t his coworkers, well… that was what having a best friend was for. But there was something to be said for not being ‘alone’ in the sense of having a pet.

Mercury Labs had a birthday ‘PTO’ policy. The policy was that you picked a day close to your birthday (or on your birthday, of course) and took that day off. All you had to do was let your manager know and don’t bother with the PTO, just go have fun. It was a policy Hartley loved wholeheartedly, as it meant that on his birthday (which was a Friday this year), he got to wake up late, have brunch with Lisa, and then mosey over to the nearest rescue shelter for animals.

Once Hartley and Lisa were signed in at the shelter, they headed over to where the dogs were kept. They’d decided to start with the smallest of Central City’s shelters (Lisa had outlined a plan of attack involving hitting every shelter in town while avoiding the police; Hartley reminded her that, technically, as she hadn’t been arrested since the thing with Ferris Air, she didn’t have a record any more and did not have to actively dodge the cops anymore… all while Lisa pouted and covered her ears and went ‘la-la-la can’t hear you, Snarts always dodge the cops and I’m out of practice’). Hartley grabbed one of the leashes kept by the front desk, feeling faintly optimistic that he’d find at least one dog there that he’d want to walk around and try to get a feel for their personality.

Hartley opened the door and even before he’d set foot in the cage lined hall, the dogs started barking at him. All except one, he realized, once the door fully opened for him and Lisa. There was one off on the left, about halfway down the room, who’d come to stand expectantly in front of his cage door.

Or, rather, her cage door, made obvious when she popped her little paws up on the mesh door and strained to get a better look at him as he approached. Her tail wagged as he stopped in front of her door and she dropped back down on all fours. She was a terrier mix – the exact breeds unknown, according to the informational tablet chained to the door – with a mix of short, silky fur and scruffy fluff that made her look like someone had taken the rear end of one dog, the front end of another, and smushed two together. Her name was listed Brindle, probably because she was black with brindle points (her paws and mouth/neck area), which was unimaginative but not horrible.

“Hey, Brindle, want to go for a walk?” Hartley asked, pleased when she immediately sat and swished her tail at him in anticipation.

“That dog,” Lisa mused, “just chose you, didn’t she?”

“I’m just taking her for a walk.”

“Nope. That dog compelled you to bring the leash with you and there is no way you’ll be putting her back in that cage. All my planning, Hart. All of it. For nothing. Because this dog has brainwashed you by merely existing.” Lisa sighed dramatically and Hartley rolled his eyes in response.

Tapping the little indicator for ‘walk’ and then selecting his name off the list, Hartley grinned when the cage door popped so that he could open it and attach the leash to Brindle’s neck. Brindle waited just long enough for the leash to go on and then she sprang back to her feet and pranced – definitely pranced, not walked – out of the cage. Then she led Hartley, impatient every time he drew her back to walk at his pace, to the outdoor exit. All the while, Lisa trailed behind them, making comments about how the little princess clearly knew what she wanted.

Hartley wouldn’t admit it out loud – not yet anyway – but he was thoroughly charmed. Once outside in the fenced off yard area, Brindle led Hartley unerringly towards a bench on the opposite side from the building. Her prancing had transformed into a trot and she kept glancing up at Hartley with a sort of… pensive expression, really. Maybe Lisa had a point about Brindle choosing him… but more like she was in the process of choosing him just like he was considering choosing her.

They stopped at the bench and Hartley sat down, expecting that he’d then pick Brindle up. Nope. Almost the second his butt hit the seat, there was a dog on his lap. She sat facing Hartley, her tail swishing slowly over his knees. Her little face tilted this way and that, ears twitching as they stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Hartley started scratching her shoulders and she just sort of collapsed, her approval evident in her clearly blissed out expression. He snickered softly and turned the shoulder scratching into a back rub, only stopping when Brindle was leaning so much into his hand that he thought she might actually roll off his lap which, on the bench, would probably not be particularly comfortable.

Brindle sat back up almost immediately, coming to perfect attention. She stared at his face again and then sat up on her hind legs and leaned forward, bracing a paw against his chest so that she could… lick him right on the nose. Hartley jerked back with a surprised laugh and then scowled at Lisa who was doing a terrible job of hiding her giggles behind her hand.

He stuck his tongue out at Lisa, who just took that as permission to laugh at him more openly.

Meanwhile, Brindle had sat back again and was almost vibrating from the force of her tail wagging. People who said dogs didn’t smile clearly didn’t pay attention to dog body-language because what Brindle was doing at that very moment was the equivalent of a great big grin.

“Okay,” Hartley finally said, scritching at Brindle’s ears, “you may have a point about her choosing me.”

“Hah!” Lisa settled down beside Hartley and reached over to do a little petting of her own. “So, gonna change her name or does Brindle work fine?”

“Hmmm… well, if she’s already attached to the name Brindle then I don’t want to confuse her, but...” most dogs perked up at the sound of their names, or terms of endearment, and Brindle didn’t react to her name at all. He stopped petting her and shooed away Lisa’s hand. “Brindle?” he repeated the name a few times, sharpish when she ignored her name in favor of nuzzling his his hand to seek out more pettings. “Nope,” he finally said, “she isn’t attached to that name at all.”

Brindle climbed over on to Lisa’s lap and sniffed at her face; the thief managed, if only just, to avoid a repeat of the ‘lick to the face’ maneuver… mostly by picking Brindle up and plopping her back onto Hartley's lap. “Oh no, sweetie,” Lisa told the dog. “No licking my face. Ever.”

“She’s going to prove you wrong eventually,” Hartley warned with a laugh, cuddling Brindle who was giving Lisa a very betrayed look.

“Never.” Lisa crossed her arms stubbornly, scrunching her nose up at the sight of Hartley’s doubtful stare.

“Now she’s made it a challenge, right lil’ Missy?” the endearment slipping out unintentionally. Brindle’s ear’s, however, perked up and she looked right at Hartley in clear recognition.

“Oh no,” Lisa grumbled.

Hartley grinned. “Missy,” he repeated, watching as Brindle – no, Missy – side-eyed him a little before returning her attention to Lisa’s nose.

“No, no, no, you are such a nerd.”

“I think Missy likes her new name,” Hartley declared.

“You are asking for trouble, giving her a name like that,” Lisa protested. “Nerd,” she repeated, as though name-calling would change his mind.

“You recognized the reference,” Hartley pointed out with equanimity. “So that would make you...”

“Someone who spends too much time watching tv with a nerd,” she sighed.

“I believe the proper term is ‘fellow nerd’.” Hartley smirked and ruffled the fur on Missy’s head. “So, Missy, want to go home?”

Missy wriggled in delight, sneezed joyfully (as only dogs can), and then hopped to the ground, giving Hartley an impatient look for not immediately getting up with her. He just smiled and stood up, leading the way back into the shelter.

* * *

 

“No stealing my dog, Lisa,” Hartley cautioned.

“But she’s so cute and I got her so many toys and treats at the store.  I must be her favorite already,” Lisa protested, laying on Hartley’s couch with Missy on her stomach. Missy headed towards Lisa’s face. “Ooof, sweetie, off the boobs.” She pushed the dog back.

Hartley snickered from the kitchen where he was setting up Missy’s water bowl and trying to pick a spot to put the container he planed to store Missy’s food in. “You do realize she’s still trying to get at your nose, right.”

“I knows,” Lisa retorted.

“That was terrible.”

Lisa giggled in response.

Hartley finally gave up and just left the container on the counter nearest where the bowls were on the floor. It took up space he didn’t want to give up, but he could always get a little table and set that up as the puppy-station or something later.

He headed over to the couch and sat down in front of it, laughing quietly at the feeling of Missy sniffing at his hair. “Come here, Missy,” Hartley called, patting his knees.

“Hey, no stealing my dog,” Lisa protested, as Missy jumped down.

“Who’s dog?”

“Yours,” Lisa grumbled.

Reaching over, Hartley poked Missy on the nose. She wrinkled her nose at him, so he poked it again. She made a growly noise and showed her teeth, but from the way she was wriggling and wagging her tail it was pretty clear she was taking it in good fun. So Hartley poked her nose a third time.

Missy pounced his hand with a growl, bouncing along after him as he moved his hand back and forth, occasionally letting her catch his fingers. Always, Missy kept her touch light, never really biting down but snagging onto his fingers with enough force to tug playfully.

“She sounds like she’s purring,” Lisa observed, having twisted onto her side to watch them play. “A gravely, growly, doggy purr, but still.”

“She’s having fun,” Hartley said. “So am I.”

“I’m glad.” Lisa reached over and ruffled Hartley’s hair, smirking when he scowled over at her. Then she checked her watch and sat up with a rueful expression on her face. “Well, I need to head out. Meet me for lunch again tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Hartley agreed, still distracted by playing with Missy.

“How about somewhere we can get the food to go so that we can taunt Missy with fries?”

Hartley snickered and rolled Missy over on her back, turning playtime into tummy rubs. She nipped playfully at his hand a few more times, squirming around, then relaxed, letting her little paws stretch up in the air. “I’ve only had her for a few hours and you’re already suggesting we start tormenting her. We’re terrible people.”

“Ah, she’ll love it… if only because eventually one of us will give in to those sad puppy eyes and give her one.” Lisa waved from the doorway. “See ya.”

“Bye.” Hartley scooped up Missy and stood up, quickly plopping them both down on the couch. The door shut firmly behind them and then locked – Hartley hadn’t ever exactly given Lisa a key; she just showed up with one a few weeks after they started hanging out and suddenly Hartley had an ever-refilling case of hard apple cider in his fridge. He just sort of went with it and, besides, a new key had appeared on his key ring around the same time that just so happened to unlock Lisa’s apartment.

Missy stared over the top of the couch at the door behind it and let out a sad little whine.

“She’ll be back,” Hartley promised, pulling Missy on to his lap and turning on the tv. “She’ll probably be insisting that she’s your Aunt Lisa by then too.” He activated the Netflix app and scrolled through the recommendations queue, stopping at _The Magicians_. “Hmmm… that one sounds good,” he muttered to himself, starting up the first episode.

Leaping off both Hartley and the couch, Missy started sniffing at her new toys. Right now all she had available were a rope bone, a knot made of rope, and a couple of small, squeaky tennis balls.  Lisa had also gotten her some plushies, but Hartley had a feeling she’d rip right through anything fluff-filled and wanted to put that off for special occasions only. Like Christmas, which was just a few weeks away.

After a minute or so, Missy decided on the rope bone and then rejoined Hartley on the couch, snuggling up against his side and contentedly gnawing on one of the knots on the rope.

Scratching Missy’s ears absently, Hartley can’t help but smile in amusement. Here he was, watching Netflix after an afternoon spent hanging out with Lisa. Which, all in all, would have been an improvement over his last birthday even without Missy.  (In fact, he was fairly certain he'd spent his last birthday alternating between designing his third set of dampeners, his gloves, and plotting his revenge on Wells, in between curling up in the dark while hoping that maybe his migraine would lessen to the point where the light sensitivity would go away.)

But… he’d definitely made the right choice in getting himself a dog.

Honestly, the only thing that could have made the day better would be a hot boyfriend cuddling on the couch with him (someone who Missy approved of, since now that he had her he was definitely a ‘love me, love my dog’ sort of person). Maybe next year.

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, Hartley, maybe next year, or New Year's day even… with Cisco. :)


End file.
